


Crumbling

by Okkk



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Eating Disorders, Self-Harm, Unrequited Love, self hatred, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okkk/pseuds/Okkk
Summary: All the subtle ways House hurts himself.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Crumbling

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't write this without including Hilson in it.

He’d always hurt himself in little subtle ways and though he was entirely conscious of those decisions while doing them, it didn’t make him want to stop in any way because however little those acts of self harm were, they served to help him in some way. Hurt yourself and feel better he would repeat to himself as he’d go through each one of his rituals. Some were so embedded into his everyday life that he didn’t see the need to ease on himself every once in a while. He deserved to be punished constantly.

Today, he hadn’t drunk even an ounce of liquid all day, savouring the ache of his kidneys as he denied himself water. He didn’t deserve to have any until he’d solved the case and though he wanted to sit down because his leg was aching and his brain was running too fast even for his liking, he didn’t do either because to do so would be giving himself relief when he didn’t deserve any of the sort.

Nobody knew about these little things and though he’d flaunted them plenty of times in some brief pathetic cries for help, they’d just put it down as something he just did because he was House. He constantly willed for Wilson to realise as he’d forgo getting his own plate of lunch and snatch a few bits and pieces off Wilson’s plate. He couldn’t allow himself to have a full meal for many days on end and the only times he’d get any sort of food was when Wilson would eat in front of him.

He deserved the dull pain and dizziness of being hungry constantly and it would give him headaches which he’d will away with glasses of bourbon and Vicodin. They’d pleasantly numb his mind for a little while until he could find the next way to hurt himself.

This way of living, of coping had been going on for so long that even thinking of treating himself with kindness was unacceptable. His father wouldn’t have accepted it so why would he allow himself the pleasure? He was lonely and miserable and didn’t see the point of living. Everything was maddeningly numbing, and it had to be turned up a notch constantly. Especially his friendship with Wilson. He pushed and pushed to see how long Wilson would last because everybody left in the end but Wilson was resilient and held on and he didn’t know what to do with that.

Wilson was just another way to torture himself. Every single day he’d watch people interact with his friend and tell himself that he could never do that. He’d watch him flirt with whoever was willing and wait for him to tell House about another date he’d fixed up for himself and it made House want to drive a screwdriver down his arm. He taunted Wilson in retaliation by bringing up his marriages and his inability to keep to monogamy and in turn tortured himself even more for hurting the person he loved.

He’d never admit it because telling Wilson would mean losing him and he couldn’t have that so instead he watched from the distance as Wilson drifted away and then came back every single time. He didn’t know how long that would last though. He felt as though his time was running out and he did everything to encourage it.

He’d always lied. Always. He did it by deflecting and manipulating and people let him because that was who he was supposed to be. They didn’t bother to hear the truth although he didn’t make it easy for them. He supposed he didn’t really deserve to have anyone help him and so he carried on lying through his teeth.

Mostly, he’d convince himself that it was for the greater good but every so often, he’d feel pangs of disgust and those were the days he’d isolate himself and binge on everything in his apartment and then sit there for a while feeling the pain of his stomach being stretched before going to take it all out again in the toilet. The feeling of getting rid of it was euphoric and added to his addictions. The bending over made his leg scream in pain and he savoured it. Savoured the pain he ultimately deserved because he was nothing but a lowly useless cripple and he hated himself for that.


End file.
